Food

A good Samaritan citizen decided to spit in Greasy Greg’s food one day. Unfortunately, the citizen was a carrier for a very rare, very contagious disease that, upon contact, causes painful sores and spastic projectile vomiting. This was the fate that befell poor Greg as the entire contents of his body rocketed out of him into a pussy, bloody puddle outside of Danger Dawgs, a local barbecue joint, scaring away a lot of potential customers. Greg died of rapid, sudden dehydration, and Danger Dawgs received a “B” from the health inspector.

So much so that it won every single surfing competition from Hawaii to the Mediterranean. He was so good that every other so-called competetive surfer quit surfing and abandoned their dreams. They all became accountants, bankers, and insurance adjusters. All the beaches are now barren, except for one singular bird. The Surfin’ Bird.

I spend a lot of time thinking about Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. You know, that movie that’s adapted from a book where a candy maker openly admits to (essentially) owning slaves & spends a whole day torturing children, only to give his entire enterprise to a child he knows nothing about, that probably doesn’t know shit about business, all because he “does a nice thing.” Yeah, that’n.

Anyway, I’ve always loved the “The Chocolate Factory.” It sounds like such a whimsical place – endless candy, new technologies, and you can eat the infrastructure. I wish life was more like the Chocolate Factory. Unfortunately it’s not. No, more often than not, it’s a Crap Factory. A crap factory is basically the same thing as The Chocolate Factory, only instead of delicious candy & fun times, everything’s made of shit. You eat shit, you smell shit, you drink shitty lifting drinks & bump into the walls which in turn smear shit all over your shitty body & shitty life. Welcome to the Crap Factory, kids! Get used to it.

Now, occasionally, The Chocolate Factory makes a brief but impactful appearance, and you get to taste amazing candy, and all is well in the world for a very short period of time. And you’re happy. For a time, you’re happy and you feel like nothing can ruin it. Then, of course, the Crap Factory opens back up and sends out the shit train, which makes a B-line straight for your f*cking face, heart, and soul. And you remember just how shitty your life is, but you smile a bit because you still have that delicious chocolate factory memory. Nothing can take that away as long as you live.

Because that’s life: a never ending stream of shit with occasional chocolate interruptions.

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything on here. Too long. Why, you may ask? Why? Because I’m lazy, alright! There, you solved the puzzle! Are you satisfied??

So I felt I needed to write…something. Well, I just left a lovely eating establishment known as Cheesies, and I ordered a lovely sandwich called “The Tenderizer”, a heart-stopping amalgamation of fried chicken, smoked bacon, cheddar & mozzerella cheeses, & BBQ sauce slathered between two giant slices of Texas Toast. Folks, this sandwich is so good that every time I eat it, I cry & drool at the same time, and my tears & drool mix and pour onto the plate with the sauce drippings, creating a watery, saucy pool in which you can see your disgustingly content reflection. Add ranch on the side for dipping and it’s a veritable tastegasm. It’s that kind of sandwich that you struggle to duplicate and FAIL MISERABLY! When you’re not eating it, this sandwich haunts your tastebuds to the point of sweaty insanity! The crispiness of the chicken; the aroma of the bacon; the allure of the multiple cheeses mixing together as if to say, “Hey, look. We’re gonna be alright; people are great, and the future’s bright.”

Go to Cheesies. Get the tenderizer. Eat it, then clean yourself up, because there is no dignified way to eat this sandwich. None. And that’s a good thing.

Also, you’re gonna wanna take a nap once you’re done. Try to avoid that urge.

Or don’t. Food naps are great. Waking up from them is a chore, though. Be aware.

Until one day he contracted salmonella from eating an undercooked muffin and it’s raw contents. He spent hours – days, even – by a toilet, expelling every ounce of fluid he had into the porcelain palace, until there was nothing left. He continued to dry heave for a solid week until, finally, his abdominal muscles tore in half from the strain. He’s in a wheelchair now. He can no longer eat solid foods, especially muffins.

Rufus Johnson loved his ice cream.
He’d eat it for every meal, and every snack in between.
One day, he woke from a sleep so sound,
To find he’d ballooned to 500 pounds.
This realization was short-lived, however, when the shock of his weight caused him to have a MASSIVE heart attack. Doctors tried to save him, but the defibrillators couldn’t make it through all the fat, and by the time they were able to cut through the fat down to his heart, he’d been dead for 2 hours.

Captain McGavin lived in the air
Flying from the seat of his derrière.
But his craft flew too low;
Into the Rocky Mountains it did go,
And he crashed & killed all but 5 passengers. Destitute, He spent nearly a week eating each passenger one by one. They weren’t even stranded; they crashed literally a mile outside of Denver. Captain McGavin just really wanted an excuse to eat people. His divorce did a real number on him.